


The Stars Are Not Wanted Now

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-06
Updated: 2007-06-06
Packaged: 2018-10-16 08:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10567719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: They'd looked everywhere, tried everything, but there was no way out. It seemed pretty certain that Dean was going to hell in a week.





	

 

 _"You've saved my life, over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me. Don't you think I would do the same for you? You're my big brother, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Now, I don't care what it takes, I'm getting you outta this._  
I guess I gotta save your ass for a change."

Sam sounded so confident about it - so sure he could do it, that Dean believed him. After all, they were Winchesters, they'd killed the Demon that had plagued their lives and their father was no longer in Hell. They could do anything.

 

 

****

 

 

Eleven months and three weeks later, he'd lost that confidence. They'd looked everywhere, tried everything, but there was no way out. It seemed pretty certain that Dean was going to hell in a week. He'd had come to terms with it though - it might only have been a year, but it had been enough. After seeing Sam cold and lifeless, a year with him beside him - laughing, bitching, hunting, fucking him - had seemed like a gift.

He had six days to go when he woke up in the middle of the night to find Sam propped on one arm, staring at him.

"What's up?" he mumbled sleepily.

Sam shook his head, then reached out a finger and traced it down Dean's face. Dean frowned.

"Do you have any idea how important you are to me?" Sam said in a dream-like voice.

Dean groaned. "Go back to sleep, Sam," he commanded.

"No," said Sam, sharply. "I need to say this. You're always ducking away from emotional moments, and I'm not sure you know. You're everything to me, Dean. And not just because you're my brother, or because you're all I have left, but because of you. Because of who you are. You do so much for me, and for other people, and you never expect anything back. Dean..." his voice faltered and he fell silent.

"Go back to sleep," Dean repeated, his voice gentler.

"Yeah," agreed Sam, but he didn't move, and when Dean shut his eyes and slid back into sleep, he could feel Sam still watching him.

 

 

****

 

 

When he woke up, Sam was gone. That was unnusual - Sam had been sticking pretty close in the last few days, as Dean's time ran out - but it wasn't until Dean saw the note that he realised that there was more to it than an early morning coffee-run.

It was just one word, printed large on a sheet of paper, but it made Dean's blood run cold.

_Sorry._

He glanced around the room, but all Sam's stuff was still lying where he'd left it the night before, and there were no other clues as to where he might be. In desperation, he turned over the sheet of paper. Sam had written on the back of a computer print-out, and one sentence had been carefully highlighted in yellow.

_It is generally agreed that the only way to break a deal with a demon without retribution is for another, countermanding deal, to be struck._

Dean dropped the paper, pulled on his clothes as fast as he could and ran out to the Impala without tying his bootlaces. He drove to the crossroads breaking every speed limit and without stopping for red lights, but he already knew he was too late.

When he got there, Sam was sprawled brokenly on the gravel, his eyes open and staring sightlessly at the sun. Dean fell to his knees beside him and rested his hand on Sam's forehead. His skin was already cold. "Fuck, Sammy," he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

It felt like the earth wobbled on its axis. Dean could dimly hear birds singing nearby and he couldn't understand why they weren't silent, why they didn't know that Sam was dead, and there was nothing left to sing about. The whole world should be mourning him.

Behind him, footsteps crunched, but he didn't look round. He couldn't turn his eyes away from Sam's face.

"You Winchesters," she said, "it's like a french farce, only with more death." She paused, then added thoughtfully. "About the same amount of sex, though."

Dean ignored her. She laughed, and after a moment, her footsteps started to retreat.

"Wait!" he said, suddenly, standing up and turning around.

"Let me guess," she said, smirking, "You want to make a deal."

Dean nodded jerkily. "Right. What'll it take?"

She laughed again, and Dean clenched his fists. "Sorry, sugar, no can do. I don't make the same deal twice. Besides, part of his deal," she nodded towards Sam's body, "was that I wouldn't make any more deals with you."

Dean turned round and stared down at the slack way Sam's jaw hung open. "I'll find another demon then," he said.

"Good luck finding one powerful enough to take away a soul I've claimed as my own," she said. "Face it, Dean, he's gone." She tilted her head to one side. "I can hear him screaming in agony. Do you think he's regretting it yet?"

Dean snarled at her. "Get out of here if you're not going to help."

"Oh, I'm going to," she said with a smile. "I've got a new toy to play with, after all." She disappeared before Dean could retaliate, leaving him alone with Sam's body.

He slumped to his knees besides it. "Sammy," he breathed, "What am I meant to do now?"

Sam didn't answer.


End file.
